


and it's running its course

by ffantastic



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Minor Injuries, Nicknames, Non-Graphic Violence, implied - Freeform, leakira - Freeform, leakira version of the bonding moment, why has it become my brand to only imply the getting together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 01:30:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17839835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ffantastic/pseuds/ffantastic
Summary: Akira saves Leandro's life. Neither of them expected it to come with these sorts offeelings.





	1. leo

**Author's Note:**

> title from live outside by enter shikari

Leandro had been in sticky situations before. Life-threatening situations. Scary situations. But having to fight off twelve deadly, advanced robots sent to kill him? That was a first. It hadn't even been a week since he'd joined Voltron, and it was still nebulous to him, a vague alliance of freedom fighters, and already he was cut off from the rest of his team, fighting for his life on just their second mission. And sure, threat lurked around every corner of every planet in every solar system known and unknown to man now that he bore the mark of a paladin. But he hadn't envisioned himself, on top of the highest building this planet's largest city had to offer, facing off so many adversaries on his own on his _fourth_ day of being a paladin. He didn't even know what it really meant to be one, apart from the visible: He had a mark on his wrist, luminous blue when he looked at it from the right angle, and an intangible weapon, a part of himself and yet now, a pair of laser guns in his hands, sturdy and accurate.

"Where did you all come from, huh?"

He aimed simultaneously at the ones advancing the quickest. The wind blew sharp up here, rustling his hair and the ends of his coat. The robots kept pouring out, tall as humans, but metal, no eyes, illuminated only by the neon lights of the platform and the bright night skyline. Leandro had no problem with eyesight, he never forgot his contacts, and they were fitted to him like everything he owned, but there still was such a thing as bad conditions. And double pistols were a little ridiculous, _more for show than for any real use_ , as someone pointed out whenever he activated them, no doubt an underhanded comment about Leandro himself but – no matter now. He pulled both triggers. The lasers hit their marks, the robots tumbled to the ground, one off the platform. The ground was so far below that Leandro didn't wait to hear the crash.

"Who wants to be next?"

Before the words had left his mouth, a laser singed his right ear, and he ducked out of the way just in time not to be hit. Reaction or aim didn’t register before the next robot fell to the ground, two smoking holes in its torso.

Even without injury, Leandro heaved on every breath now. His hands were shaking, just a little bit, just enough to notice, but it made the lights of the city, blinking and whizzing past in the distance, so much brighter. He was just a boy with a pair of guns, and today, he could end up just another fleck of blood on the streets. There were so many of them, streaming onto the platform from the staircase below, illuminated in flickering purple every time the door opened. Somewhere far below, the rest of his team must have been fighting, but only distant groans and clangs reached him, quiet against the pulse in his ears.

His weapons might have been more accurate and sturdier, but the robots' inbuilt blasters made up for in frequency of shots what they lacked in accuracy. Just a moment too long of blinking at the door, opening and closing in hypnotic rhythm, and a hot flash of pain shot up his leg. He’d never been hit with a laser before, but he gritted his teeth and used his momentum to knock out three more bots before he doubled over, this time really heaving. Blood was already soaking the edges of his torn jeans, but he didn’t get the courtesy of calming himself and steadying his limbs. Another shot struck him in his left shoulder, throwing his balance off so that he crouched over the abyss, gazing down into his multi-colored, bright demise. His stomach lurched, and he turned back to the robotic caricature of a head. He didn’t want to die like this.

The door burst open, not with the usual quiet hum and click when the two halves connected again in the middle, but with the resounding _crack_ of someone putting their steel-toed boot through. Akira stood in the jagged remains of the door, purple lights dancing across his back, sounds of another fight down the staircase drifting up. He was a picture of rage, dark hair wild around his scowling face, and his jacket was wound around his waist so that when he lifted the stolen, scorched blaster and aimed at the nearest enemy and growled, every burn mark and scar and flexing muscle on his arms was right there on display. But he still missed, pathetically, and chucked the weapon behind himself, charging forwards anyway.

A short laugh tore out of Leandro. _He can’t even aim with_ one _gun_ , he thought smugly, and got to his feet, confidence restored just like that. Blood still soaked his clothes and his muscles ached, but the pain had dissipated, only a distant throb now. There was no place or time for thoughts of dying and surrendering now that Akira was on the other side of the platform, slashing through the empty hulls of their enemies with the sword he had conjured from his mark. This was the place and time for the best tricks Leandro had up his sleeve.

He could taste victory. The bots’ way was blocked, someone was holding them back on the stairs, and even though their eyes met only in a flash, there was no way the leftover ten bots stood a chance against the two of them.

Another flash of enemy fire shot past Leandro, just barely grazing the tips of his hair, and the heel of his shoe slipped over the ledge. Just enough to feel the wind whizzing past, taking hold of him and pushing him back onto the platform at the same time, just enough to feel nothing underneath him. Pain, shooting up from his leg, doubled him over onto the platform again. Metal clanging and deep grunts echoed over from Akira’s side of the platform. His blade spun like it had a mind of its own, the person attached only flashes of black and red. In the mere minutes he’d been up here with Leandro, he had decimated their enemies’ numbers by half. This wouldn’t do. Leandro’s pain solidified into determination.

He dropped into a roll, something he’d been told not to do, a dumb idea, probably, but he still did it, the momentum carried him right into the remaining circle of evil bots, and he shot all the while, aiming as good as possible. At least half of them hit their marks, dull thuds as empty hulls clattered to the ground. And Leandro didn’t stop there. He jumped up, wild with adrenaline and something else thrumming in his veins, the pain maybe, though it didn’t register as pain anymore. He was numb, but he still flailed his arms and pushed buttons, pulled triggers, kicked, even. The wind blew through his hair, catching his clothes, but there were no things like heights and lights and death anymore. The world spun around him, but he was still standing. He was still fighting, and he was winning.

-

Fighting, sometimes, for Akira, was like willingly throwing himself into short-term amnesia. With a blade - or really any kind of weapon - in hand, everything else faded to black and white and static noise until it was done, or someone or something managed to shake him out of the singular focus. He hadn’t come out to the platform for Leandro, specifically, he’d just run up the stairs because that’s where the bots were headed, where everything culminated. Hadn’t even noticed it was a platform until the wind gripped him and threatened to throw him off the side.

But Leandro was hard to miss, even with a dozen enemy robots between them and a glowing immaterial blade in Akira's hands. He was tall and loud and still a show-off even with blood on all his limbs, rolling around and shooting his bright blue laser guns like a stuntman. So, Akira ignored him on purpose, noticed him only out of the corner of his eye, concentrated on cutting and swinging and drawing back and kicking, until, at last, there was only one left. Akira wasn’t hit, but he’d been grazed so many times that both his arms stung from shoulder to wrist as if his skin had been rubbed off, and his legs were like lead now that he didn’t have anything to run from anymore.

Panting, he stalked over to where the last bot stood over Leandro, who was kneeling on the floor, clutching his side. But why was he kneeling there, why wasn’t he doing something? Sure, he was bleeding, but he’d been fighting the whole time, energetic and overzealous as ever, close to doing a cartwheel at any given moment. This was not the time to give up. 

Akira was still standing, and there was one more enemy left. Narrowed eyes, widened stance, he drew back and kicked the robot right where it was weakest, and it tumbled over the ledge without protest, without fight.

Finally. Akira took a deep breath and let his blade meld back into his mark. Even down the stairs, the sound of fighting had subsided.

“So,” he said. His voice was hoarse, but he still expected Leandro to react. Nothing.

Akira frowned, and looked down. There was no one there anymore. No Leandro. He spun around, boots gliding on what was probably blood on the floor, but he was alone. _No_. Something heavy gripped his limbs and tugged at his stomach, and when he shivered and stumbled, it was not because of the wind. _What have I done?_

“Leandro!”

It was desperate, but he couldn’t help the name that tore out of him. Akira had never said his first name out loud before, but petty pretenses didn’t matter anymore when Leandro was probably tumbling his way to his untimely, ugly death, because Akira couldn’t dispose of enemies in a normal way.

The wind brought a whisper, a feeble voice to his ears, and he dashed to lean over the edge, not daring to hope but there he was, Leandro, holding onto a pipe just under the platform with four fingers. He was bloody and disheveled, half-lidded eyes, almost passed out, but he was still alive, straining to look up at him and mumbling what might have been a distorted version of Akira’s name. Leandro might not have been his favorite person in the universe, but he’d never felt this sort of relief flood him at the sight of someone else just alive, just breathing.

“Hang on.”

His voice was breaking again, but he didn’t waste a second thought on it as he crouched down and offered his hand to Leandro, clutched the fingers wrapped around the pipe - they were trembling, straining to hold on with everything left - and reached out for his other hand.

“Le- Leo-”

His voice broke, the name coming off his lips wrong, but with a pained grunt, Leandro swung his free hand up to grasp Akira’s, and he pulled with every bit of strength left. _Leo_ , he repeated, maybe out loud and maybe to himself and maybe both, because wrapping his tongue around Leandro’s entire name was too stressful, but he wanted to encourage him, wanted to say, _hey, I’m saving you,_ but also because it was a beautiful word, a strong word in itself, and by speaking it, strength flooded his muscles again. Akira planted his feet on the platform, still crouched down, and _pulled_. Leandro’s head popped over the ledge, and they both scrambled to get all of him on top of the platform again, sneakers and ripped bloody jeans and everything.

Leandro was panting, head hung low as Akira pulled him to the middle of the platform, trying to get him to stand up. It was no use. Leandro was collapsed against him, barely on his knees, and his shaky arms wrapped around Akira and clung to him with a strength they shouldn’t have possessed. Akira froze, arms at his side, as Leandro clutched him in a tight hug, his face pressed into the shoulder of Akira’s top, soaked with sweat and blood and now, tears as well. His voice was still feeble and broken, but this close to Akira’s ear, he could make out the whispered _thank yous_ and broken stutters of Akira’s name, over and over, just _Kira, Kira. Thank you -_

Still numb, confused, he pulled his arms free from Leandro’s grasp to hoist him up and out of harm's way, because even victorious and alone, they were in the open, very high up. Leandro didn’t protest as Akira wrapped one arm around his shoulders and one beneath his knees and stood up with a groan. He was almost passed out, just conscious enough to wrap one hand behind Akira’s neck and smile before he closed his eyes. Not conscious enough to wiggle and argue that he shouldn’t be carried like that. It was less of a hassle to get him down the stairs and into their waiting ride, where the rest of the team stood with wide eyes, relieved but urgent, and ushered them inside.

But maybe it would have been easier on Akira if he _had_ protested, because like this, he had too much space in his confused mind to ponder how light and yet sturdy Leandro was in his arms, the way he had said his name, the way he had let himself be held and clutched him, the way he hadn’t wanted to let go. Before, he certainly hadn’t harbored hate for Leandro. He hadn’t particularly liked him, thought of him as obnoxious, as the kind of person that was tolerable until they opened their mouth, objective attractiveness ruined by his personality. But that was not hate, it was begrudging respect, because team was team, and Leandro had to have been chosen for a reason anyway. And Akira didn’t get on with a lot of people, so it was nothing to waste time thinking about.

But now, Leandro’s warm eyes, widened in fear and then in relief, his shaking hands, clutching the pipe and then Akira’s shirt, invaded every thought. Every second of the maybe five minutes Akira had spent on that rooftop with Leandro played and re-played in his mind, and he noticed things he had never wanted to see. Leandro with his double pistols had seemed a little ridiculous, too flashy and impractical to be of any use in a real battle, but in Akira’s memories, now, he was like an action hero transported out of a movie, never missing a single shot, winning smirk and endearing freckles illuminated by his own laser.

They took him back to the place they were all staying since they'd been recruited, because the house was well-equipped, and no one asked questions. It took the whole night and the whole day and then another night until anyone could come see Leandro in the med bay. Akira spent at least half the time laying on his bed in the dark, distracting himself from the thought that Leandro was so close, just a few seconds on the elevator away, by comparing the way he had said _Kira_ to the faint memory of his mother calling him the same thing. It was a weird feeling, connecting any thought of Leandro and his voice to a memory of Akira’s mother. Weird, because it made him feel guilty, like he shouldn’t be doing it, like he was tainting something, but it also made his gut squirm in anticipation, and for once, he didn’t try to quell it.

-

It took about a day until the drowsiness that came with the pain medication let off enough for Leandro to grasp onto any real thoughts or feelings, and the first thing that took a hold of him was dread. There weren't any fluorescent lights and the med bay was as homely as possible, but still, from the moment he opened his eyes, his heart pounded, and he wanted to run away, but his legs were still bandaged, bound down, and his head throbbed. He wouldn’t be going anywhere for some time.

The dread within him, the nausea, didn’t turn out to be because he had woken up alone in a bed not his own. Memories flooded him, of a fight that had almost taken his life, of fear and adrenaline running through his veins, of his hand, clammy, slipping off the pipe it was holding onto, his vision blacking out and focusing again on the angel leaning over the edge of the platform. Tousled black hair, naked arms, wild eyes, a voice calling his name and a strong hand reaching out to pull him back from certain death. Past Leandro had never been so relieved and grateful, so willing to collapse in someone’s arms and sob a broken version of their name and swear eternal devotion to them (although he was pretty sure he hadn’t said that part out loud, or even implied it in any way).

Present Leandro felt a whole different sense of dread wash over him. He had nowhere to hide, and yet he pulled the bedsheet up over his flaming cheeks to at least give in to the urge. _No. That had not happened. No._ His mind was a steady mantra of _no_ , but it was hard to deny the memory. He had done all those things, and his savior had been no angel, but Akira, whose mere presence made him want to be taller and bigger and broader and _more_ , better, always. To beat him, yes, but also to impress him, just a little bit. A few days of being his teammate were enough to convince Leandro that Akira really wasn’t a bad guy or as insufferably arrogant as he seemed from afar, but he was still untouchable. There had always been the urge to make him a little more _real_ , and now, Leandro had managed. Even delirious and half passed out, Akira’s eyes, half frightened, half awed, multi-colored, reflecting the city lights, had engrained themselves into Leandro’s memories. He had never thought that to get something like this, he would have to give something of his own, but he had let someone see his maybe most vulnerable state. Not only someone - the person who out of everyone in the universe, he would have chosen never to be vulnerable in front of.

He didn’t know how to deal with it, so he didn’t. He told himself _if I forget about it, it never happened_ , and shut his eyes tightly, and thought of something else. It worked better than he had anticipated, but even weeks later, sometimes when he closed his eyes, he heard Akira’s voice, not frightened and breaking like it had been on the platform, but quiet and soothing, low and steady like it usually was, whispering _Leo_ right into his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this first chapter right when the leakira trend was at its height, and then promptly... forgot about it :') and now klance AU month has fortunately motivated me to finish and post it! the second chapter is well underway and will hopefully not take that much longer!
> 
>  
> 
> come motivate me to write on [twitter](https://twitter.com/cheeseroyalty) or [tumblr](https://cheeseroyalty.tumblr.com)!


	2. kira kira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira and Leandro have become friends, but that night still remains the only time they've called each other _Leo_ and _Kira_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, that was a little more than two weeks :') hope you still enjoy!

The city was nothing but a blur around them. Night was just setting, the sky dusky around the edges, the first neon lights flickering to life. Akira's bike was too fast to see one color at a time if you let yourself get swept up in it, if you weren't used to it. Leandro was more than used to it by now, and it was like routine as he turned around in the backseat to watch for their pursuers. They weren't there yet, but they wouldn't be long.

They were there every evening when they drove back home, but they hadn't managed to find the headquarters on their fourth planet yet, and that was mainly because no one could follow a bike for long through these winding, glimmering streets, if Akira was driving and Leandro was shooting. It had been a hassle at first, to decide that letting each paladin drive their own bike was just a way of inviting more people to the headquarters, of making themselves more vulnerable. It had been even more of a hassle to decide who would drive with who, and the first few nights hanging onto the back of Akira's bike hadn't been a lot of fun or even easy for Leandro. He'd protested at first, but only until Akira took the first sharp turn. After that, he had just made himself as small as possible and held on as tightly as he could. He hadn't taken out any weapon at all that night.

But even then, they'd made it, alive, if sweaty, no pursuers in sight, and more in the mood to yell than to congratulate each other on their continued survival. Later, alone in his room, Leandro had been as tense and anxious as he hadn't been since the very first days of Voltron, almost a year ago then, and he'd been close to asking for a switch, or for any other solution, when the impossible had happened: _Akira_ had knocked on _his_ door.

Things between them had also changed since the beginning, but Akira had never been that friendly and close again after the night on the platform. He'd become agreeable, after a while, maybe even funny, but he had never relented and called Leandro _Leo_ , no matter how often he asked and teased about it, no matter how often and easily the others all did it. He had never become the friend Leandro had wanted him to be. Until he'd knocked on his door, fidgeting, trying on a smile, and asked if Leandro wanted to train more for their tandem bike rides. He hadn't said so, but his wandering eyes and tentative smile were enough to be sure that he had noticed how uncomfortable Leandro had been during the ride – not a difficult feat, but, at least, he wasn’t making fun of him, he was offering to _help_.

And from then on, as they drove around their indoors training hall while the others discussed battle strategies and other technical stuff, it had become second nature. Their drives home through the night had become Leandro's favorite part of the day, sometimes he couldn't sit still with anticipation until the sky darkened. And they'd become friends, without speaking about it, because they had to trust one another, be so close, understand each other without words because communicators failed sometimes, and then they couldn't shout over the roaring wind in their ears, and because after a particularly good ride, they were both pumped up on adrenaline, laughing, clutching the walls and sometimes each other.

Akira was Leandro's friend, maybe his best friend after all this time, and it felt like second nature to twist around in his seat, conjure his guns from his wrist and twirl them around his fingers as if they weren't going fast enough to blur the city lights.

"Where are they," Leandro mumbled to himself.

It shouldn’t have been loud enough for him to hear, but Akira shrugged, and mouthed _ambush_ over his shoulder. A shiver went down Leandro's spine, and a grin tugged at his lips. Akira mirrored the grin and met Leandro's eyes through his goggles, just for a flash, then turned around again and sped up.

Watching Akira drive was fascinating, up close or from a distance, and it had taken a few rides until Leandro had been able to suppress the urge to watch his pale hands flex on the handles and concentrate on his own job. He still had to avoid the stray dark hair that sometimes escapes Akira's ponytail and flew into Leandro's face, but at least he couldn’t be distracted by his small excited grin or the twinkle in his eyes when he turned them to the front. And, with Leandro focused on their pursuers, they weren't pressed closely together chest-to-back like they had been for the first few rides, which had been no small part of what kept him awake at night. Akira was too attractive for anyone's good, and the only way Leandro knew how to deal with it was to ignore it.

The sky was dark now, but the city all the more illuminated, bright neon lights colored the sky and the streets from every side, blinking and rotating, and without his goggles, Leandro might not have seen anything of the streets around them anymore, might have lost his balance every time they took a turn. But the goggles helped, and Akira was good, adjusted his turns sometimes in a way that Leandro couldn’t help but think were for his sake.

Something hissed past his ear from their front, too fast to see or really notice. Akira tensed. There, in the unusually dark street before them, an even darker shape hovered. The expected ambush. From behind, Leandro could just-so make out the quiet hum of another engine. Their pursuers weren't stupid, but team Leakira had the better tricks up their sleeve. It wasn’t the first time they had escaped from being cornered, and Leandro held tight and tensed his thighs as Akira used their momentum to flip them behind the second pursuer, the quiet one that had come from behind. They spun in the air, stabilizer activating to cushion their fall, and Leandro let out a whoop, upside down, looking up at their stunned enemies. Engines revved as they came right-side up again, and Leandro put their bikes out of commission with little more than a twirl of his guns. It was a useful move for a show-off, but as long as it worked, Leandro didn’t mind much being exactly that.

They took a sharp turn. No one overtook them again, because Akira drove as fast as no one else, and he knew the city streets better than the maps did. And no one did any damage to them or even came close to them, because Leandro never missed, unless it was on purpose.

-

The rides back to their headquarters had been the highlight of Akira's day from the first planet on, but they had undeniably become even better since Leandro had joined him. Well – the first time, maybe not so much, because they'd been forced together, when they hadn't yet learned to fit their edges together, colliding at every turn. The first time had maybe been the worst one, because up until then, Akira had avoided even being close enough to Leandro to touch him, and then he was as close as possible, pressed against him in fear, and still reluctant to the bones. But: the first time had been the worst one, so every time after that had been better. Had been good, just because Akira had paced around his room that first night, taken a deep breath, and decided to do what he should have done a lot earlier: taken the first step.

Being friends with Leandro was easier than he could have dreamed up. He was only stubborn to the point he realized that Akira meant it, that he wanted to help. Then, all traces of animosity were wiped away, and Leandro went from glaring at his back when he thought Akira wasn’t looking and grudgingly agreeing with him, sometimes, to throwing an arm around his shoulder and coming up with another ridiculous nickname. Akira didn't mind, most of the time. Most days, he even enjoyed it, because he'd never known the kind of easy partnership that formed between Leandro and him over the months of racing the streets together. On the best days, they were completely in sync, unbeatable, and on the worst days, they were still a team, still better together than their enemies ever were, alone or in a group.  
But no matter how close they became, no matter how many nicknames Leandro came up with: He never once uttered _that one_ again. Combined with the fact that he joked about Akira calling him Leo every day, it made him just more determined to never call Leandro anything but his last name again.

Usually. Usually, it did – but sometimes, it was the exact opposite. Akira remembered with an unreal clarity what it felt like to call him Leo, and how even in that hopeless, thoughtless moment, when he hadn't known Leandro the way he did now, it had felt like strength, like hope, like something good. Like the right thing to say. And now, that he called himself Leandro's friend, now that he knew all his different laughs and smiles, had seen him in quiet moments and in danger, right there on the back of the same bike as him – now, he liked to imagine, it would feel like even more.

He imagined it the most alone at night when he couldn’t sleep, and the blinds in his room didn’t close all the way and the city was too bright on the other side. It was a comforting thought, and sometimes sleep crept upon him to the faint echoes of Leandro whispering _Kira_ in his ear.

That was the one thing he didn’t let himself wish for, though. _Usually_. Up until now. Because Leandro, laughing raucously behind him while they zipped down the broadest street, victorious and free, set something alight inside of him, and if he said that thing now – he wouldn’t be able to hold back anything anymore, and he wasn't sure yet he wanted Leandro to know that he fell asleep most nights counting his freckles in his mind.

-

Breathless, laughing, Leandro shot off their last pursuer, who vanished behind them in a blast of blue light. They were on the home stretch, and as Akira turned into a broad, straight street and sped up one last time, Leandro let himself collapse onto him and laugh into his ear. Nothing about this night had been special, and yet, everything was different. The colors more vibrant, his breathing shallower, and it was as if he could read Akira's smile in the tilt of his shoulders. Leandro didn't have any control over his words left. He was just laughing.

"Kira, Kira, oh man that was awesome, Kira-"

Leandro was still laughing as Akira swerved to take them off the broad street abruptly and stopped the bike in a narrow, almost dark alleyway.

He realized his mistake when Akira turned around in his seat and the lights from the street, zipping past in the distance, reflected in his eyes. He'd taken his goggles off, and his face was unreadable, but his jaw was clenched. Leandro had come up with more than a handful of nicknames for Akira, and most of them gained nothing more than an eyeroll, maybe a smile hastily hidden behind a hand, but he had never called him Kira. Not since that night on the platform, half-delirious and out of his mind.

It had been the first glimpse of the Akira he would get to know over time, the Akira who was loyal and dependable to a fault, who would do anything for his friends and who regarded people as his friends who didn't really even deserve it. There were a lot more sides to Akira than just that, he knew now, but back then, it had shook Leandro to the core, and he hadn't learned to cope with it when he'd seen Akira again two days later, called him by his last name, and seen his face fall very obviously right in front of his eyes. He had to swallow back a bit of regret, but he had told himself he didn't care that much.

And he had never let that particular nickname leave his lips ever again, no matter how distressed he was, how much he needed Akira's help. There had always been enough filter left that it never slipped in a dangerous situation. But this unbridled joy, this victory, the wind in his hair and the streaks of color behind his goggles and the smallest point of contact where his knee touched Akira's thigh, that had been enough to do him in.

Akira slid off his seat, still silent, and Leandro went down almost willingly, heart beating in his throat. The bike shut down with a hum, lowering to the ground. It was dark around them, the only sounds their breathing and the buzz of the city. Distant vehicles and stray laser beams illuminated Akira's face in flashes as he came closer, but it wasn't enough to recognize the emotion on his features. Because there _was_ an emotion, but Leandro was too jittery to realize the details. With each of Akira's steps forwards, he took one back, until his back was against the cold wall of the alleyway they stood in. His breathing quickend. Was Akira going to punch him? Was he going to grab the front of his shirt and give him the lesson of a lifetime? Akira hadn't seemed like a violent or dangerous person, not to his teammates, not to _him_ , in a long time. But somehow, that was different here, when all he could hear was his heartbeat and blood rushing in his ears, when Akira was close enough to feel his breath, and he still hadn't said a word.

Fingers slid up to take hold of Leandro's collar, but didn't pull or tug at all. It was more like Akira needed to hold onto something to keep himself steady and to push forward, because his hand was trembling, and his breath came uneven and fast. Leandro's perception of the moment turned upside down in a matter of seconds, this was not violent, this was – something else, and suddenly his heart was beating painfully in his throat for a different reason. Akira breathed out one last time, shut his eyes and kissed him.

It was a soft, lingering kiss. Leandro was kissing back before his confusion had subsided, a dozen voices still screaming _what_ in the back of his mind. His hands had found their way into Akira's hair before he had given them permission to, and he'd begun smiling to himself, into the kiss, before he had admitted to himself that he had been waiting for this moment for a long time. That maybe he'd never called him Kira again just because he'd been afraid this might _not_ have been the outcome.

When Akira pulled away, Leandro was still reeling. Still too many unanswered questions and unaddressed feelings, in himself and in the air between them, too many to be answered by just one kiss. But he looked at Akira, his face as relaxed and open as it never was, his dark eyes steady and shining, and it wasn't that bad. They were there to catch each other.

Akira drew himself a little closer, as close as he could be without touching their lips together again. Something hot squirmed in Leandro's stomach, almost uncomfortable with anticipation, and his cheeks burned.

"Call me that again," Akira whispered, voice too low and hoarse to be healthy for Leandro's heart, " _Leo_."

Their lips connected again. It wasn't soft this time, intense like nothing he'd ever felt before, and the heat spread out from his stomach to his fingertips and his toes, until he lost himself in Akira.

They drew apart only what felt like hours later, and for the first time, they were the last duo to arrive at the headquarters that night. They hadn't talked about the kiss or all the things that came with it, but they said goodnight with just a smile as their interlocked fingers slid apart, and Leandro knew they would. There were so many things for them to say and see and do, and some things were better left to anticipation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this AU could honestly have been huge, but i have so many projects already that i didn't want to invest so much in it :') i have at least two multichap klance fics in the works and a dozen smaller ideas, so if you enjoyed this and you'd like to see more of my writing, know that more is coming! i'd also be super glad if you followed me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/cheeseroyalty), where i'm really trying to be more active cause i don't have enough people to talk to about klance  
> thanks for reading!


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